Six years of you fixing things nobody else even noticed were broken. The place is going to feel different.
Happy retirement, Marguerite
Thirty-one years. Add a memory, a photo, or just your name — she leaves on Friday.
This is where you would write
On a real card, anyone holding the link writes their message right here — a name, a few words, a photo if they have one. No account, no app, and no limit on how many people join in.
Everything on this card is free — the messages, the photos, the theme, the slideshow and the PDF. Eleanor’s video message is the one part that comes with Keepsake, $9.
Lunch was not enough time. Thirty years and we got ninety minutes. Come back and visit us.
Thank you. For all of it.
Last one at the old desk. You are not allowed to take the good chair with you.
Recorded this in the kitchen so excuse the kettle.
Thirty-one years. Unbelievable. Enjoy every single second of it.
You hired me when nobody else would read past the first page of my CV. I have never forgotten it and I never will. Whatever I turn out to be good at, you started it.
The whole of the second floor says goodbye. We made Dev take it four times.
I still use the spreadsheet you built in 2011. Nobody understands how it works. Please leave instructions.
We got you a cake. It did not entirely survive the stairs.
Happy retirement, Marg.
Last Thursday. You told us you were terrible at this and then won three times running.
Nobody is ever going to explain the coffee machine as patiently as you did.
From the night shift — we never once had to chase you for anything. You have no idea how rare that is.
Twelve years ago you found me crying in the stairwell after a review and told me the reviewer was wrong. He was. I stayed because of that conversation.
Four attempts at that photo and I blinked in all of them. Some things you cannot fix, Marguerite, and I am one of them. Enjoy the garden.